


Her Favourite Colours Were

by Marksider89



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Color Blindness, F/F, Monochrome until Meeting Soulmate, Soulmates, St. Patrick's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:54:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23206576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marksider89/pseuds/Marksider89
Summary: At almost twenty-eight years of age, Emily McLoughlin had yet to find her soulmate, until two beautiful women walk into the pub she works at.
Relationships: Emily/Lena "Tracer" Oxton, Emily/Lena "Tracer" Oxton/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Emily/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Lena "Tracer" Oxton/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix
Comments: 10
Kudos: 115





	Her Favourite Colours Were

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Their Favourite Colours Were](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18334778) by [nival_kenival](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nival_kenival/pseuds/nival_kenival), [NotAWerewolf42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotAWerewolf42/pseuds/NotAWerewolf42). 



> Happy (belated) St. Paddy's Day! This is just a quick and very rough little fic that popped into my head. I hope you like it.

“You _must_ be joking.”

“I’m afraid not, Luv.”

“Lena, chérie, the odds that I was able to find another soulmate after...after Gérard’s...death, were astronomical in and of themselves, but now you are telling me that, because I cannot see orange and you cannot see green, not only do I have what is essentially a _third_ soulmate but you have a second soulmate as well. On top of that, there’s no way to tell if they might be the same person or not. It simply is not statistically probable that we have even the slightest chance of finding them.”

Lena’s shoulders sagged a bit. “Look, Luv, all I’m saying is that this is exactly what happened with Angie, ‘Reeha, an’ Moira, and it’s the only clue we have as to why we can’t see those specific colors. I’m not saying that we need to go out touching everyone we meet or anything like that.” She gently pulled her girlfriend into her arms. “Look, we’re just gonna have to live with this, and if by some miracle, we _do_ find our other soulmate, or mates, we’ll do our best to welcome them into our lives.”

Amélie nodded into Lena’s hair. “I suppose.” she mumbled with a sigh. “At least you not being able to see green explains that horrendous outfit you chose to wear tonight.”

“Oy! It’s not that bad.”

“Lena, they are green and covered in sparkly green glitter. They are _offensively_ gaudy.”

“They’re supposed to be gaudy. You know, for fun?”

“If you say so, chérie.” Amélie said, rolling her eyes.

Fun? Amélie would rather stay in bed with Lena for the evening. _That_ was the kind of fun she’d prefer to have tonight. Then again, when Lena drank, she would get giggly at first, but it quickly led to flirty, to touchy-feely, to seductive. So maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.

She pulled back from the embrace. “I suppose I should get ready as well.”

* * *

The entire pub was decked out in green for Saint Patrick’s Day. Or, at least, so she was told. At almost twenty-eight years of age, Emily McLoughlin had yet to find her soulmate, and therefore, was still colourblind. This had led to more that one incident of someone deciding to engage in the age-old tradition of pinching her for not wearing green on St. Paddy’s Day. It would be so bad, if they had the good graces to actually pinch her on her arm, but by day’s end, some of the more inebriated patrons would decide that it was okay to pinch her in...other places, often earning themselves a slap and/or ejection from the bar. Emily was thankful that Seán, the pub’s owner, had a zero-tolerance policy towards anyone harassing his staff. To help alleviate the problem, Seán had ordered a new batch of aprons for them to wear in a nice shamrock green.

Mercifully, the dinner rush had finally subsided, and pretty much the only ones left were a few of the regulars and a small group of partiers who were thankfully being served by another waitress. Emily had just finished ringing up the bill for the second-last of her tables to leave when a couple of ladies walked in. She looked up to greet them, and her breath hitched. They were beautiful.

The taller woman had an elegant air about her. She looked like she would be more at home in a four or five star restaurant. She had an hourglass figure, piercing eyes, and a long, high ponytail that hung to her waist. Her dress had a slit down the side that showed off her beautiful long legs and revealed just enough cleavage to be sexy without being salacious. For a brief moment Emily wondered what it would be like to be with someone like her, but she quickly reminded herself that this woman was most definitely out of her league.

Her companion, however, looked more like she belonged with the group of partiers. She wore a top hat and jacket that Emily could only presume were green. While Emily couldn’t see color, she had learned to identify some colors by their shade of grey. Her guess that the hat and jacket were green was supported by the fact that they were absolutely covered in glitter, which meant that they were most likely just novelties. It took her a second to notice the glowing harness underneath the jacket, and recognize that the woman was, in fact, Tracer from Overwatch. Emily swallowed. Tracer, _the_ Tracer, was just a few feet away from her. She had had more than a few fantasies about the former Overwatch poster girl and now she was meeting her in real life.

 _‘Okay, Emily, stay calm. Stay. Calm.’_ she told herself. “Welcome!” she greeted them, “Grab a seat anywhere, and I’ll be with you in just a tick.”

“Thanks Luv!” Tracer said before the two made their way to the booth in the back corner. Emily could feel her heart flutter at the fact that _the_ Tracer had just spoken to her. Plus Tracer’s companion had smiled at her as well. She was sure that the smile was meant to be just friendly, but the woman made it look seductive at the same time. Is it warm in here?

Wait, were they on a date? Shit. Emily stood no chance with either of them. Collecting herself, she grabbed a couple of menus and made her way to their booth. “Hi there! My name’s Emily, and I’ll be your server tonight.” she said handing them their menus. “Can I start you out with something to drink?”

“Oh, right, I’ll have a pint of your house lager, please.” Tracer said.

“Alright,” Emily said, writing in her notepad, “and for you?” she asked the other woman.

“I will have the chardonnay, please.” she said calmly.

 _‘Was that a French accent? It sounds amazing.’_ Emily thought, _‘If they are on a date, I’m not sure which one I’m more envious of.’_

“Okay, I’ll go get those for you, and do you need a few minutes with the menu?”

“Yeah, just a few, I think.”

For the rest of their time at the pub, Emily found herself stealing glances at them, desperately wishing she could be sitting in that booth with them. See watched in bursts as they ate, drank, talked, laughed, and clearly flirted with each other. Her other table had paid and left almost twenty minutes ago, and she was serving a drink to one of the regulars at the bar when she noticed the French woman signal her.

“Yes? How is everything?”

“Very good, thank you. We would like the cheque now, please.”

“Of course. Let me just get these plates out of the way for yo-”

Emily reached to grab her plate just as she reached for her glass of wine, and their hands bumped each other for an instant.

“Oh, sorry, I w-” she froze, staring into the French woman’s eyes. The French woman did as well.

“Uh...Amélie?” Tracer asked.

“Her hair.” Amélie said, seemingly in a daze.

“What?”

“Her hair...it’s orange.”

Tracer’s eyes widened.

“And your skin is...blue?” Emily half-asked.

Amélie suddenly looked embarrassed. “I have a medical condition.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. You’re still beautiful.”

Amélie’s cheeks reddened, making her look almost purple. “Merci.”

Emily cleared her throat. “Uh, let me get these dishes and I’ll be back with your cheque.”

“Wait!” Trace almost shouted. “Are...are there any colors you can’t see?”

“What?”

“Are there any colors you still can’t see?” she repeated just a bit slower. “Like, is there anything that’s still grey?”

“Uh…” Emily glanced around in stunned amazement. The world had suddenly burst to color. She could finally see the green St. Paddy’s day decorations, including Tracer’s jacket and hat. The red and blue neon signs advertising various beers. The pint glasses filled with brown ales. She shook her head and turned back to Tracer. “Not that I can te-” that when she saw it. “Your leggings. _They’re_ grey. Why?”

Tracer stared into her eyes. “Luv, my leggings are yellow.” she said, somewhat ominously in Emily’s opinion. She held up her hand. Emily eyes it for a moment before reaching out and touching it. As she did she kept her eyes on Tracer’s leggings. The moment their skin touched, the leggings instantly became yellow. She hadn’t even blinked. Her eyes flew up to meet Tracer’s, who was looking back at her in wonder.

“Well then,” Tracer said, her face breaking out into a broad smile, “My name’s Lena, an’ this is my girlfriend, Amélie. It’s nice to meet you.”

* * *

The next time someone asked Emily what her favorite color was, which was about a month after she’d moved in with her new girlfriends, she laughed and told them that she couldn’t decide between blue and yellow.


End file.
